


The art of fighting in heels

by boxofwonder



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, fuck gender roles, kyoutani doesn't even wear heels, magical girl au, the crystal gems aren't what they used to be, what the happ is fuckening: the fanfic, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/pseuds/boxofwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoutani is busy enough trying to make Iwaizumi proud, punching monsters in the face to save the day, and dealing with all this true heart and love bullshit that comes with being a magical girl.</p><p>He really doesn't have time for the way the dark's side new apprentice gets under his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The art of fighting in heels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkCaviness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkCaviness/gifts).



> This is a gift to thank my friend for all her wonderful art but somehow I feel like apologising for this mess anyways. It seems I can only write whacky kyouyaha AUs that would please my inner 12 year old. But, hey. Don't tell me you wouldn't like to see Iwaizumi in heels. 
> 
> Shoutout to my darling [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth) \- thank you for your brilliant ideas that shaped this AU and your support <3
> 
> Please be mindful that the T-rating isn't solely for Kyoutani's potty mouth (he said 'fuck' 82 times, good going, kiddo.)

When the glow takes over Iwaizumi’s skin, Kyoutani does not look up from where he’s sitting. After the first time blinking into the transformation and being blinded for goddamn hours, he’s duly learned his lesson.

“Sweat pants are a blessing,” Iwaizumi sighs tiredly as he falls down onto the sofa next to Kyoutani, who is taken aback by just how rugged and tired Iwaizumi looks.

“Did he give you trouble today?” It’s not usually like that - challenging, yes, but Oikawa Tooru has _nothing_ on Iwaizumi. Nothing a person like him can’t handle anyway. Kyoutani has never met a stronger person before.

Iwaizumi drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. “He’s got help now. I wasn’t expecting that. They got away with every single shadow today. Every single one.”

“Oh.” It’s a lot more toneless than he means for it to be. Kyoutani can feel the implications in the air, like chill on his skin. So, naturally, he does what he does best with the topic: gets up and dodges, making his way into the kitchen to throw together something like food for Iwaizumi.

They’re running low on almost anything. Kyoutani sighs deeply and closes the fridge again, figuring the most he’ll be able to throw together is scrambled eggs. Well, it’s _something._

“Let’s order something today,” Iwaizumi calls from the living room. Kyoutani tenses.

“I don’t -”

“It’s on me.”

Shoulders hunched up, Kyoutani clenches his teeth. “You can’t keep doing this.”

For weeks now, Iwaizumi has taken him in without complaint – given him shelter and food and money and worn out band shirts and his goddamn attention and _trust_ for some inexplicable reason. The thing is, Kyoutani has no way of repaying him.

Or, well, there's one, but – it's not like he could be _good_ in the way Iwaizumi is at what he does.

“Keep doing what?” Iwaizumi is looking at him over the back of the sofa, remote in hand lazily, feet on the table. Kyoutani wants to snap at him for pretending there’s nothing _wrong_ with the situation they’re in.

“Let me leech off you. Aren’t you supposed to be steel hearted?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Takeda has some thoughts on that.”

“Don’t remind me.” If Kyoutani ever had to sit through a session with Takeda getting all worked up and poetic over metal and hearts and magic and - worst of all - _love_ again, he’d just gladly jump out of the fucking window.

Iwaizumi only starts digging around on the cluttered table for the brochures of some places nearby. “Just pick a place. Gotta indulge myself today, that Yahaba kid is _fast._ Didn't use an ounce of magic and gave me trouble. _”_

Kyoutani wrinkles his nose, returning to the sofa in defeat, still queasy from the topic hanging over their heads. Not fucking subtle at all.

“But nothing you can’t handle.” It’s not even a question, it’s a fact. Iwaizumi is the best at what he does, plain and simple. Punch bad guys in the face. Or, at the very least, manage to keep Oikawa in check. That in itself is already a feat.

“They got away today. That _was_ something I couldn’t handle.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “It happens.”

“Yeah, sure. There’s no reason to worry with Oikawa Tooru holding shadows in his greedy hands _and_ his new apprentice stirring shit up. The kid’s _really_ good.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Kyoutani knows what’s coming. Of course he does. “Not better than you, though.”

“How would you even know.”

Kyoutani can't meet Iwaizumi's gaze, but can feel his long, hard stare. “I taught you the ropes, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Kyoutani replies reflexively, even though a tiny part of him actually may appreciate the sentiment. Like there’s attachment there. On Iwaizumi’s side, too. Like he actually gives a shit about him. Not 'cause he wants an apprentice or anything, just for Kyoutani himself.

“There is literally nothing else I could teach you to prepare you for this job. You have the skills, we’ve built up trust to work together, you’ve got a warrior’s heart.”

Kyoutani huffs at that last sentiment. Technically, he’s very much aware that this is the only thing holding him back - some weird worries and complexes. Iwaizumi trusts in him, like nobody has ever done before, but _still -_

(What if it’s not the heart of a warrior? Iwaizumi has _steel,_ strong and unyielding, whatever the fuck could a person like Kyoutani even get? Some kinda stump metal, something disappointing. He doesn’t need a magical reminder of how much of a fuck-up he truly is. At least with normal jobs all he gets is a paper slip or a straight-up ‘No’ to the face. No magic and hearts and _true character_ involved.)

“Is it about the skirts? Listen, it’s simply a uniform -”

“I know that.” It’s not about the goddamn skirts. Sure, that part is gonna take some getting used to, but even frilly skirts are a better deal than what the dark side’s got going on with their weird ass cloaks. Being a magical girl and kicking villain ass is pretty fucking badass in itself. Clothes have jackshit to do with the ability to fight a cunning bastard like Oikawa and his stupid magic only with a sword and a whole lot of determination and emerging victorious. If anything, doing that whole thing in heels makes it more impressive.

How the fuck even. Kyoutani would literally snap his ankles on first step.

“Then what are you so worried about?”

Kyoutani glances over, and then back, down at his chewed up fingernails. How do you tell a person they’re the first one in a while you _really_ don’t wanna disappoint?

(And that you kinda know you will?)

Then again, it’s not like Kyoutani can carry on like this - he still hasn’t found a job and is sleeping on Iwaizumi’s sofa, eating his food and taking up his free time with lessons for a profession he has to take up or it will all have been for naught. He scratches his neck. “That Yaha-whatshisface guy. Is he wearing a dumb cloak too?”

Iwaizumi snorts, and his voice takes on that softer note when he replies. The one he always gets with Oikawa. It’s fucking strange, 'cause technically they're enemies. Maybe it comes with knowing each other so many years. Kyoutani doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. “I’m pretty sure Oikawa bullied the poor kid into it.”

Kyoutani looks down at his fists, clenched in his lap. Every fibre of him wants to be possessive of the faith Iwaizumi puts into him, the care he shows no matter what Kyoutani fucks up. But most of all he wants to be _worthy_ of it.

Better a struggling fuck-up than a coward who gave up before he tried.

When Iwaizumi puts a hand on his shoulder, it feels grounding, but heavy, too. “I need you,” he says.

Kyoutani has _really_ gone soft.

 

\---

 

“I’m glad you’ve finally found the courage to support Iwaizumi-san in his fight.”

Kyoutani grinds his teeth and stays quiet so he won’t snap at Takeda. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and tries not to wriggle away from the last check-ups. Hands prodding him, all eyes on him, expectations. fuck his life.

“Takeda-san?” he asks quietly, when the scientist steps back, ready to go through with the process.

“What is it?” His smile is so wide, so eager to help him out. It took Kyoutani a couple months to figure out it’s not pretense, that’s just how Takeda is. “Do you have any concerns?”

“What’s the least valuable metal?”

Takeda sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose, his smile growing even kinder, all soft. Kyoutani wrinkles his nose but stays quiet and listens. “The metal determines your weapon and uniform, a reflection of your character. However, it is nothing other than that - the only one determining what kind of warrior _you_ are going to be is - well, you.” It sounds so easy, coming from him. “Iwaizumi-san values you, and so do I. I am relieved you will help him keep this city safe and the balance restored. You do have a warrior’s heart. That’s all we need to know. Any other questions?”

Kyoutani shakes his head, clenching his clammy fists. “No, sir.”

 

\---

 

It’s bright.

Real fucking bright. Like trying to squint at a phone at night that's up to full brightness. Only ten times worse. The strain’s less on his body, more in his head and chest. Right, the heart thing. Or soul. Or whatever you wanna call it. Takeda has _opinions_ on that, too, but Kyoutani never listens.

“Fuck,” he curses, head feeling fuzzy and spots dancing in his vision. He can feel himself lose his balance, but Iwaizumi is there immediately, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and keeping him steady on his feet.

Fucking hell.

“Fuck'n hell.”

“How’re you feeling? You needa puke?”

The most he can get out is a grunt but Iwaizumi seems to get it anyway, squeezes his shoulder. Kyoutani doesn’t have to be able to see more than fucking _spots of light_ to know Iwaizumi is smiling, he can hear it in his voice. “When I turned, I puked all over Takeda’s lap.”

“His nose was bleeding, too! Made a goddamn mess!”

That’s Ukai. Great, another fucking person to watch him stumble around blindly in whatever colour his goddamn metal has turned out to be. The only thing Kyoutani knows is that he’s _definitely_ in the uniform. It’s all really … body-hugging, and ridiculously soft. He's never actually worn a skirt before, but it's strangely comfortable.

Kyoutani just wants a moment alone to come to terms with this change, but he can’t even fucking walk on his own. Iwaizumi lowers him into a seat, slaps his cheek lightly. “Kiddo? Try opening your eyes again.”

With a disapproving grunt, Kyoutani complies, blinking down at his knees. Light still dances in his vision, but he’s beginning to feel less nauseous, and curious to take in the way he looks. It _is_ gonna be his go-to outfit to fight in the future.

He’s, like, wearing socks up to his thighs. That seems kinda unnecessary. One is plain white, the other has stripes of gold run up right to the frilly edge. There’s a tiny bow, too. These fucking outfits are so ridiculously deliberate.

The edge of his skirt is all soft and ruffled, with white lace at its edge and … all layers of it golden. Huh. “Fool’s gold?” he mumbles around the fuzzy feeling in his mind and mouth.

Iwaizumi laughs, carefree and unabashed, cupping his cheeks, squishing them and rocking his head a little in his giddiness. Kyoutani makes a gurgling noises. Maybe he _will_ puke.

“ _Gold._ A heart of gold! I knew you had it in you, kiddo.”

Kyoutani blinks. He’s definitely gonna puke.

Life’s so fucking weird.

 

\---

 

“Literal gold yes or no, my Yahaba-chan is still my one and only golden boy!”

Kyoutani scrunches his nose. “Can we just punch him already?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Patience, kiddo. First fight, let’s not mess it up.” He’s looking relaxed, rolling his shoulder lazily. As if he’s enjoying this, facing off on this rooftop with the opponent, new apprentice in tow.

(Maybe he does.)

Kyoutani grinds his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the two figures across from them. Honestly, he’ll take skirts and bows and ruffles any day over the weird-ass dark cloaks their enemies are wearing. Oikawa’s clasp is fastened with his gem, _of course,_ diamond all too clearly visible, and the damn cloak falls down to his ankles.

Yahaba’s a different topic - Iwaizumi hadn’t been able to gauge which type of gem _he’s_ bound to, or which type of magic he uses in the first place. In a fight of painfully obvious alignments with certain traits, he’s the only wild card.

Still looking ridiculous, though, in his matching cloak.

(Kyoutani’s gonna ignore the whole matching silver and gold thing Iwaizumi and he have going. Whatever, at least _they_ look rad.)

There’s something about the way Yahaba eyes him that makes Kyoutani want to ruin his relaxed expression. He works his fist open and closed.

“Don’t lose your head, you hear me?” Iwaizumi cuts in. “You know our goal.”

Kyoutani freezes, trying to mask his annoyed huff, but of course Iwaizumi sees right through him, gaze lingering on him until Kyoutani admits defeat, repeating it for the hundredth time: “Keep them from gathering the shadows. Keep the shadows from slurping hope for lunch. Purify the shadows. Keep the civilians safe.”

He wishes his priority could be to get that smug expression off Yahaba’s face.

“Don’t lose your goal. Don’t lose yourself. Other than that, go wild. Test your abilities. Dinner’s my treat tonight.”

Sounds like music to his ears.

 

\---

 

“I like your skirt. The lace in particular,” Yahaba says lazily, from where he’s lounging on a windowsill like a goddamn cat. Kyoutani gives an indignant growl as he works himself out of the shards of brick, rubble crunching between his teeth.

It’s _hard,_ getting used to the new strength of his body. He had meant to try his magic and kick some ass, not to catapult himself into a billboard, a tree, and finally, this goddamn roof. Brushing his teeth will probably do _shit_ to get the fucking dust and rubble out.

Adjusting to this new-found strength is fucking _hard._

“Shut the fuck up,” Kyoutani grunts, feeling ridiculed. Keep civilians safe? He’s managed _shit,_ Iwaizumi’s busy with shadows and _Oikawa_ while Yahaba is sitting around here all smug and annoying, abandoning his fucking job. Is he pitying Kyoutani? There’s no bigger fucking insult than _pity._

“Learn to dress yourself before you go run your mouth.”

“You’re rude,” Yahaba sighs, as if in defeat. He’s putting his arms over his head and stretches, like they’re not supposed to be in a goddamn battle. Kyoutani grits his teeth at the stupid truth that he isn’t much of a challenge yet. “I was simply extending you compliments and you shut me down like that.”

“Don’t play your mind games with me,” Kyoutani grunts, finally lifting himself out of the crumbled mess of bricks on this roof. “I won’t fall for it.”

“Mind games?” Yahaba flutters his lashes and Kyoutani feels like retching. He hates people like that, hiding their true colours under a million guises.

“What the fuck is your gem anyway.” While they’re on the topic of dishonesty, and Yahaba seems all too happy leaving the actual fight to Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Kyoutani might as well ask.

“And I should tell you why, golden boy?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” Yahaba lifts himself up with elegance, balancing on the narrow windowsill like it’s no trouble at all. Kyoutani wishes he could just. Punch him. “You’re the golden boy. That’s what your heart is, deep down. You magical girls are so flashy, so quick to wear your hearts on your - well, skirts. Fighting for the greater good. Life must be easy with a worldview as simple as that.”

“Someone’s gotta purify this _shit_ before it gets innocent people,” Kyoutani bites back. “ _Nobody_ deserves to be hopeless!”

Yahaba narrows his eyes, gaze too intent, like he’s trying to pry something from Kyoutani’s words he never meant to put in the open in the first place. Kyoutani _bristles,_ about to snap, but Yahaba is faster than him. “You think treating a symptom is the only solution?”

“I think you need to _shut the fuck up._ ”

They’re facing each other, Kyoutani’s only reason for not launching himself at Yahaba the very realistic fear of crashing right through the window behind him. Just as he's considering whether it would be worth it anyway, a cluster of bound shadows bursts out overhead, swallowing all light above with it.

The breath hitches in Kyoutani's throat, he flinches away instinctively. His eyebrows furrow when he sees them held together by thin shimmering coils, a cackling Oikawa Tooru sliding behind them through the air like he’s waterskiing.

“Yahaba-chan!” he shouts, yanking on the reigns hard enough to force the shadows around so that they are barelling straight towards them. “Play-time’s over!”

Yahaba inclines his head towards Kyoutani like a fucking formal farewell, and pushes himself off the ledge with force. Iwaizumi is zig-zagging between roofs, a silver blur shooting through the sky behind the terrifying trainwreck headed straight towards Kyoutani, who feels rooted into place.

He's never faced so _many._ And not without Iwaizumi _before_ him, the one to take them on. He's supposed to fight a bunch of these beasts?!

They're so _fast_ and volatile. Fuck his life.

Iwaizumi crashes into him, tackling him out of the way, as the strange progression rushes past. Oikawa yanks the reigns once more and the shadows fly a sharp turn, headed straight towards the sky. The demon’s cackle vanishes in the distance along with the horrifying screeches of the shadows, and Iwaizumi does not even watch him go, even when his jaw is clenched, his gaze rests on Kyoutani.

Somehow, that only makes Kyoutani feel shittier about this mess.

“You alright, kiddo?”

“I told you I wasn’t made for this,” Kyoutani grits out, reaching out to yank the godforsaken bracelet off his wrist, but of course that thing’s stubborn as _fuck._ Probably better, being unable to turn back on a roof and all, but _fuck it._

“Don’t let it get to you,” Iwaizumi quips, ruffling his hair. Kyoutani stumbles sideways, away from the touch, and snarls at him. “They got away with the shadows! I ruined this roof!”

“Takeda’s already on sending a repair team,” Iwaizumi replies easily. “This was my fault, honestly. I shouldn’t have sent you a fight before I sent you through so many obstacle courses that you started loathing me. We'll get on that.”

 

\---

 

Kyoutani. Loathes. Iwaizumi.

He _does._ Back on the roof he laughed but he’s _not_ laughing now.

“Isn’t that enough?” he wheezes. This is like obstacle course five-thousand-two-hundred-sixty-three. Kyoutani hasn't seen a shadow or opponent for over two weeks.

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, but hauls another rapid fire of frisbees at him. Kyoutani whirls through the air, dodging before his brain catches up to what he’s doing. Once it does he’s already crouching, one hand braced on the ground. Lately, he’s been training so much his uniform and moving his body to fight feels more natural than wearing pants and operating under the usual laws of gravity. His body moves without thinking, which is honestly how Kyoutani functions best.

The training _does_ pay off. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking _suck_ though.  

“Lookin’ pretty good there, kiddo,” Iwaizumi calls. “Don’t take a single hit today and it’s time to take you back out into the field!”

 

\---

 

“I missed you.”

“Well, I fuckin’ didn’t.”

“You’re still so rude,” Yahaba says, sounding way too pleased for his own words. Kyoutani feels infinitely grateful for the fact that his weapon has finally manifested and he can clutch a baseball bat. It’s glossy and has a bow around the handle, and it will definitely wipe that grin off Yahaba’s face.

“You wanna go right at it?” Yahaba asks, pouting. “No more smalltalk? I guess it can’t be helped.”

 

\---

 

Iwaizumi warned him for the whole mambojambo. Magic and all.

Only Yahaba literally _refuses_ to use it in a fight.

Instead he has a fucking whip which he literally only uses to trip Kyoutani up as they chase each other across rooftops, battling it out to reach the shadows first. Kyoutani loses against Yahaba anyways, of course he does. He grinds his teeth at the continued feeling of failure.

What the fuck do motor skills help when he’s unable to do his fucking _job._

All he can do now is not slam into things when he's doing a fucking parkour routine. Even Yahaba's stopped taunting him, like he can see the way Kyoutani is starting to wear thin. Fucking disgusting.

But none of it matters when the sound of sobbing reaches his ears. Kyoutani skids to a halt, dodges Yahaba's attack without thinking, and sprints towards an abandoned playground. There's a small girl curled up on herself at the edge of the slide, and a disgusting shadow before her, feeding off all her innocent hopes and dreams.

It’s instinct, really. Kyoutani reaches up over his head and slams his weapon down in the middle of the playground. From the impact, a net of golden light shoots out, enveloping the infested grounds. Yahaba stops himself at the edge of it, effectively kept off his back.

Huh. That’s pretty handy.

Now without a weapon, Kyoutani cracks his knuckles and marches up right to the nasty shadow. “Yo, asshole,” he calls, smacking the thing square in its ever-shifting not-muzzle.

With a bright sound like a bell that really doesn’t fit the hollow thunk of the punch, his bracelet comes to life, sending a glowing ball of bright gold out. Kyoutani stares, and the girl peeks through her fingers at the orb whirring through the air. It touches the shadow gently, and with a sharp sound, sends a rapid fire coat of gold across the dark sludge. Then it bursts into glittering dust, with a sound like a wind chime, carried away by the breeze.

Huh. That’s pretty cool.

“Hey, you okay?” He squats down next to the girl, who is staring wide-eyed, apparently unable to decide whether to watch the dust vanish or take in Kyoutani's outfit. She's still trembling all over, even when the rescue clearly fascinated her.

“You’re wearing a skirt,” she sobs. “But you’re a guy.”

“Guys can wear skirts.”

She nods earnestly, voice a warbled mess. “Okay.” Kyoutani feels utterly helpless as to how to stop her tears or help her along. He wishes he had candy or something. Candy works with kids, right? Fuck, he sucks at being a magical girl.

“You’re pretty,” the girl mumbles, only hiccuping now.

Pretty? Well that’s a new one. Kyoutani doesn’t feel awkward at all.

“I like your ribbons,” the girl adds.

He looks at her pigtails. “Uh, I like yours.”

Is she smiling? Holy shit, now _this_ feels like an accomplishment. Finally, the little girl slowly takes her hands away from her snotty face, no more tears now. Kyoutani produces a fancy tissue that leaves the kid so awed she doesn’t dare use it. She looks down at it, then back up at Kyoutani and all the gold glory of his uniform. Then, with the most innocent expression, she asks: “What’s an asshole?”

“ _Don’t_ remember that.”

He could swear Yahaba is laughing from his spot behind the gold lines, gaze on the exchange. Kyoutani resist the urge to flip him off, but actually, he feels like laughing, too.

Maybe his job is kind of amazing.

 

\---

 

“You seem like you’re glowing.”

“Hmrph?” Kyoutani grumbles around the noodles he’s slurping. The fuck. He forces the bite down he could’ve chewed like twenty more times, instantly regretting it. “The fuck?”

He’s wearing the sweatpants with the hole above the knee ‘cause they’re the most comfortable and a worn and faded Iron Maiden shirt he treasures solely because Iwaizumi gave it to him. Both of them are literally just lazing around on the sofa, and Kyoutani’s chin is splattered with sauce.

“You look happy,” Iwaizumi clarifies. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Huh.”

Iwaizumi barks a laugh. “That’s all you gotta say? Shouldn’t have expected anything else of you. Never change.” He reaches over to ruffle his hair. “Good going, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

If anything, Kyoutani’s chest feels like it’s glowing.

Fucking hell.

He slurps more noodles, enough to almost choke on them.

 

\---

 

“Well. I guess this means stalemate.”

“We can see that, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growls. Oikawa’s dumb iridescent diamond magic holds a horde of shadows, but a silver cage around him hinders his escape, Iwaizumi in a confident stance across from him. (Kyoutani still wonders how he’s doing all this _shit_ in heels and feels secretly grateful for his own flat shoes.)

Yahaba and him are standing to the side, no shadows left to compete over. Yahaba can’t touch the silver cage, and Kyoutani wouldn’t dare disturb Iwaizumi since he knows what he's doing, which leaves them awkwardly left out of the party.

“Just give up already,” Iwaizumi growls. “You don’t win this round.”

Oikawa pouts. “Iwa-chan! You know I hate losing!”

“How do you stand this guy,” Kyoutani mutters, furrowing his brows.

“He’s not that bad,” Yahaba replies, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping the floor. “But I gotta admit this wouldn’t have to take as long as it’s gonna take.”

Kyoutani grunts, annoyed. Fucking Oikawa.

“Just release them and let me purify them,” Iwaizumi demands. Oikawa clutches the shimmering reigns to his chest like he’s straight out of some cheesy damn soap opera Kyoutani always switches away as fast as possible. The shadows screech pitifully at the yank.

“But they’re _my_ precious shadows!”

“Fuckin’,” Kyoutani curses under his breath. Yahaba sighs and sits down on the floor cross-legged, bony knees in skinny white trousers poking out from beneath his ugly cloak. He’s so freakishly … long and lean.

“Sit down. They’re just gonna bicker. I’ve seen this more often than you have.” Yahaba sounds like he’s seen it too often. Kyoutani is already done, so he can understand that, but makes sure to keep standing since Yahaba told him to sit. It’s not like he’s a dog or something.

Yahaba looks at him like “Really?” and turns his gaze away with a huff, instead looking at Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “I guess it keeps them young,” Yahaba mutters.

The two have reached that point where Kyoutani honestly just feels confused at their interaction.

“My mud cake was fantastic!” Oikawa wails, his voice sending the shadows in disarray. They strain against the reigns, but Oikawa does not seem bothered, makes an act of such strength seem like he's holding onto a herd of guinea pigs instead of pure, volatile darkness.

For some strange reason, Kyoutani remembers a talk he had with Iwaizumi, all the way before he had even become a magical girl himself, when Kyoutani had sneered about a fucking vain gem like a diamond.

“Vain it may be” Iwaizumi had said, with a strange expression on his face. “But it’s sharp and won’t ever break. Diamond’s _tough._ Don’t underestimate it.”

Back then, his voice had been filled with something very close to awe. Kyoutani snorts at how fucking annoyed he sounds _now,_ talking _to_ Oikawa instead of about him. “They looked like shit, Oikawa, it was fucking _mud,_ you can’t _cook.”_

His opponent shouts something in turn Kyoutani doesn't bother to listen to. The tone of his voice is annoying enough, and anyways, this is the first time Kyoutani actually is next to Yahaba with nothing to do. No shadows to chase and no taunting words to spout. Instead they're awkwardly hanging out like their parents set up a study date gone wrong for them.

Feeling awkward deserves Kyoutani's full attention, he figures. Fucking hell.

Kyoutani allows himself a sideways glance, for curiositiy's sake. Yahaba looks more relaxed like that, not _composed_ like he always does, but actually relaxed. Kyoutani tells himself he's looking for his gem, maybe, but his focus gets stuck on dumber things. Like Yahaba's jaw, and the way his hair curls, and the curve of his lips.

Alright, what the fuck.

“Enjoying the view?” Yahaba asks with a grin in his voice, sounding way too fucking satisfied. Of course he'd realised that Kyoutani had been looking and just – _let_ him. Enjoyed the attention, probably. God fucking dammit.

“Just lookin' for your gem,” Kyoutani replies, gruffly. “But you're so dead set on being mysterious or some shit.”

Honestly, it’s been a couple months of butting heads, and not once had he seen even an ounce of magic or a hint that Yahaba actually has a gem. Only his stupid fucking whip that tripped Kyoutani up like five hundred times too many.

Maybe Yahaba doesn’t have magic? But he can jump as far, is a fast, take as much damage as Kyoutani can thanks to his own magic, so. He can’t just be a guy with a whip.

“Oh? You think I'm mysterious?” Yahaba shifts, sitting there all cocky and fluttering his lashes again. “Anything else you think about me?” Kyoutani wants to smack his palm across his face and push him away, but then again he gets a feeling touching Yahaba's face would be a tremendously bad idea. Gut feeling. He trusts those.

“You spend too much time around Oikawa,” Kyoutani replies, disgusted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Yahaba replies with a cheshire smile, melting back into the relaxed posture from before. “You’re so easily riled up.”

“I don’t need shadows around for a reason to whack you with my bat, y’know.”

Yahaba only stretches lazily, his way of telling you “Fuck you as if I care” without actually saying “Fuck you as if I care.” Not the slightest bit intimidated. “Oh, c’mon - don’t you feel like catching a break for once? Why beat each other up without a purpose?”

Kyoutani regrets looking at Yahaba that moment, meeting his gaze, because there’s a sparkle in Yahaba’s eyes when he adds: “It’s only fun when we’re going toe-to-toe with something at _stake.”_

Fucking. Hell.

Kyoutani decides that Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s intelligent conversation is way more interesting than Yahaba next to him. Also doesn't cause the tips of his ears to burn. What the _fuck._

“You don’t even eat your _carrots,_ Oikawa!” Iwaizumi throws his hands in the air, exasperated. The shadows in Oikawa's grip aren’t even struggling anymore, like they have succumbed to their fate of being stuck between arch nemesis who unfortunately also happen to be old childhood friends.

“That was twenty years ago!” Oikawa shouts back, poking his pointer finger around the air wildly and in Iwaizumi’s general direction. “I eat them now!”

“He doesn’t,” Yahaba says dryly, under his breath. Maybe not even meant for his ears, but Kyoutani snorts, and then he chuckles, putting a hand over his mouth to stop himself from slipping into a laughing fit. What the hell even is his life.

(Fun, that's what it is, at the end of the day.)

Kyoutani drops his hand, the smile on his face subsiding only gradually, vanishing entirely when he realises Yahaba staring.

“What?” he snaps, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Yahaba is wide-eyed and looks off and – what the hell.

Kyoutani’s brows furrow. “Something on my face?” He can _feel_ the relaxed atmosphere lock up, crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Something like that,” Yahaba mutters, still sounding off, and lightly bounces up on his feet. Without a warning or anything he strides over towards the stand-off that by now has reached fifth grade memories.

“Give it up already and let’s go home!” he calls.

They're gone really fast after that.

 

\---

 

“That was a pretty good win,” Iwaizumi says, stretching his muscles lightly, with a satisfied sigh. “And Take-chan is proud of us. Especially you. So what’s got you so bothered?”

Kyoutani speeds up his steps. He feels a little weird and betrayed and it doesn’t matter anyway. The last he needs is to like. Talk about it. Ugh. He's _not_ upset about how much Yahaba seems to loathe his laugh. Fucking prick.

“Wait up! I ain’t in my magical girl state, let an old man take his time.”

“You make it sound like you’re sixty,” Kyoutani grumbles. Iwaizumi slaps his back, which is a friendly gesture but could kill a guy a little lighter than Kyoutani. “Don’t get cheeky with me, kiddo.”

 

\---

 

“What’s your gem. Will you tell me now?”

It was kinda luck and mostly accident that Kyoutani caught Yahaba in the gold net. Might as well make use of that. The shadows had no victims this time, and they’re all sparkly gold dust by now. Iwaizumi is happy chasing after Oikawa, and Kyoutani has nothing better to do.

Also, frankly, he has no idea yet how to break the net up himself. Usually it just kind of … vanishes when the shadow is purified and all.

Kyoutani is sure he can't purify Yahaba. Like. 85% sure. The only thing keeping him from trying is that he doesn't want Yahaba to _know_ he has no idea what the fuck he's doing.

“Really now?” Yahaba gives him an unimpressed stare, before studying his nails. Like they’re interesting or anything. They’re just nails. At least he seems to buy the whole “Hey I totally caught you willingly and would know how to release you” thing.

“Do you even _have_ a gem?” Kyoutani asks, buying time to figure something out.

“That’s such a rude thing to ask. But if you must know, _yes,_ I do have a gem. But I told you before, didn’t I? I don’t like wearing my heart on my sleeve.”

Kyoutani clicks his tongue. He’s all decked out in gold, it’s not like he has a choice. “You don’t use your magic either. What’s the point of being a bad guy when you don’t even get superpowers out of it?”

“I manage to trip you up just fine,” Yahaba replies with a smug little smile, but it’s wiped off his face almost instantly. “Who says _we’re_ the bad guys, though?”

“You’re. Stealing the shadows I’m trying to purify.” Kyoutani feels so offended at the question. “I mean what the fuck.”

“We’re trying to figure out the source of the shadows.” Yahaba shrugs, the glint in his eyes a little devious. “Besides, why make a problem vanish if you can actually turn it around and gain something as well?”

“Tch.” There’s a million things Kyoutani wants to say, but suddenly, Yahaba’s eyes widen in terror.

“Hey what the - watch _out_ \- !”

Kyoutani turns around, narrowly avoiding an ugly green blast of magic. What the fuck.

What the _fuck._

Some douchebag is standing there, all smug and oozing confidence, green gem proudly displayed on his chest. Kyoutani has never seen him before. He looks back over his shoulder at Yahaba, feeling almost betrayed again, but Yahaba looks exactly as taken aback as him.

They … don't seem to be working together.

“That’s how you roll in this miserable city?” the man asks, rolling his fist like it had just connected with a jaw. Kyoutani doesn’t like it - the twist to his mouth, the vile lilt to his voice, the predatory gaze. He seems mindlessly brutal, and Kyoutani knows these kinds of people, fucking loathes them for a reason. “Just let some magical girl trap you. Ridiculous.”

“This is our city,” Yahaba replies, fists clenched at his sides. He tries to move, but can’t, not thanks to the gold pattern trapping him.

Kyoutani subtly tries to _fucking break him out of it._ Why on _earth_ does he suck at using magic so bad?!

“You have no business here,” Yahaba snarls, eyes dark. “ _Leave.”_

“Oh, I will.” The man’s gaze turns on Kyoutani, his crooked smile promising nothing but the worst. Kyoutani shivers, manifesting a second bat easy as breathing in his adrenaline rush. Of course _that_ kind of mindless magic works.

“I’ll take care of this little problem for you. Golden hearted warriors for the greater good are such a nuisance. I love wiping out some light.”

“Kyoutani,” Yahaba says, the first time he has actually said his name. “Let me out of here.”

Too stubborn to admit that Kyoutani would _love to_ but doesn't know how, he doesn't reply, just catapults himself forwards. The element of surprise is the only shot he gets. His bat connects with the stranger’s elbow, but in turn, Kyoutani does not manage to dodge the blast of magic thrown right back at him entirely. He’s getting thrown back, trying to push himself up off the ground. The arm that was hit is utterly numb, and he falls back to the side, before he adjusts and pushes himself up with his other arm.

“Kyoutani!” Yahaba is struggling, but the oppressive magic binding him is clearly hurting him. “He's _dangerous_ , let me -”

Kyoutani wishes he wouldn’t suck so badly at magic, and at combat against _actual human beings._ The truth is, it has always been like this: Iwaizumi taking on Oikawa, Kyoutani taking on Yahaba. Yahaba who doesn’t use magic, never gave him an opportunity to get used to it. Dodging it, dealing with it.

Especially not something that could fucking _paralyse_ him.

That's fucking horrifying. Kyoutani feels unsettled and not equipped at all for a fight that is a life or death situation.

Still, he's gonna stick it out to the end. He's been doing this for months now, he won't just bow his head to a disgusting douche who thinks it's fun to fling magic at people.

“Kyoutani!” Yahaba shouts again. “You fucking moron! I'm not gonna _hurt_ you I want to _help you_!”

Kyoutani _knows_ as much. Green gem douchebag tries to shoot a blast of his magic at Yahaba, who's raising his hands over his head reflexively, but the magic is utterly warded off by the safety net. Now Kyoutani is almost grateful for it, doesn't want it to vanish.

At least Yahaba's safe in that thing. He will be until Iwaizumi and Oikawa get here to kick some ass. All Kyoutani's gotta do until then is, well, survive.

He tries to attack again, manages to dodge well enough. His heart is racing at the _expression_ in the eyes of his opponent, that mad glint. But he's holding up just fine, or so Kyoutani thinks, until the man shifts only slightly, placing his palm on Kyoutani's knee almost gently.

“Whoops,” he whispers, before firing his magic _directly,_ forcing it down to Kyoutani's toes and up to his hip, probably burning his skin right along with it. Kyoutani spirals backwards through the air, shout cut off at the impact.

Well. _Now_ he's panicking, lying there, panting. He can't feel his leg anymore either. _Fuck._

Deep breaths. Hyperventilating won't get him anywhere. He's feeling dizzy from his head connecting with concrete anyways.

“You coward,” Yahaba spits, struggling against his cage so hard, the magic starts humming in distress. But still, it won't break, and thank _god_ for that. Kyoutani doesn't want that terrifying green magic anywhere _close_ to Yahaba.

“It’s a favour,” the man replies, making his way over to Kyoutani, a predator who enjoys playing with already wounded prey. “You could’ve killed him a long time ago.”

“You brainless _bastard,_ ” Yahaba hisses. “This is about _balance_. You win some battles, you lose some battles. Death is not part of the picture!”

“But it’s part of mine,” the man replies, his sick grin right above Kyoutani, whose ears are ringing and who is nothing but a mass of panic and nerves at the prospect of not feeling half of his limbs and being at the mercy of a person like _that_.

Fingers dig into his hair and scalp, force his gaze up. “You magical girls always look so cute in your pretty skirts. Maybe if you begged for your life, I’d let you go.”

Kyoutani takes a second to stare before spitting into the guy's face.

Probably not his smartest idea, considering his position. But definitely the most satisfying one.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” The man’s voice is thin and cold as ice, dropped certain degrees. He conjures magic only with his fingertips, a thin green trail, and drags it up Kyoutani’s other leg, leaving spreading numbness in its wake. Kyoutani hisses and struggles, but he can do _jackshit_ about it.

The feeling is even more nauseating when he can feel the numbness spread so slowly and painfully.

He tries to fight it, he does, but the man grips his biceps, and painfully slowly sends more of the acidic magic through his muscles. When the man lets go of him, Kyoutani falls sideways, sprawled out and utterly helpless.

“I could take your head next,” the man whispers. “But it’ll be more satisfying when you’re still conscious.”

Kyoutani whimpers, hates himself for the sound escaping him. The man’s fingertips reach for his chest, already glowing green and making his heart race. He can’t flee, he can’t do anything, but he can’t watch either, closes his eyes -

There’s a scream and a deafening blast.

For a heartbeat Kyoutani is too terrified to take his surroundings in, but then it slowly catches up to him – nothing else happened, he wasn't hurt more. He blinks his eyes open. The spot before him is empty except for a thin trail of smoke.

He has to tilt his head to see the spot where his attacker had been blasted into a wall.

“You,” Yahaba growls, voice low, dangerous in a way Kyoutani has never heard before. “Will regret the day you hurt him.”

He steps into Kyoutani’s vision, entire body glowing a deep shade of red, hands at his side. There are two swirling, spiraling balls of deep red cradled in his palms. They burn and flicker like a hurricane’s energy is trapped in them.

A blast of green is thrown his way, but Yahaba’s hand whirls out, the two forces clashing in the air, exploding into nothing but heat and sound. “Try it all you want,” Yahaba says, utterly unmoved by the exchange, and Kyoutani simply keeps breathing where he's lying, clinging to the image of Yahaba, standing strong. Trying to keep him safe. “I'm stronger than you.”

“Don't get cocky,” the man spits, but there's a trail of blood at the corner of his mouth and he definitely looks unnerved.

Yahaba moves slowly and carefully, evading attack after attack, until he’s kneeling next to Kyoutani. He throws a rapid fire of red magic, and uses the small pause to heave Kyoutani up, cradling him against his chest, Kyoutani's head resting against his shoulder.

“I got you,” Yahaba whispers, voice undisturbed by another booming crash of magic clashing.

“Ruby?” Kyoutani gasps, because else he'll start screaming, probably. Yahaba chuckles.

“So you do finally know. Ruby it is. Oikawa and Iwaizumi will be here soon. You’ll be okay.”

A little bit of Yahaba’s warm magic trickles into Kyoutani’s muscles, and he gasps as he can feel his shoulder start prickling, unable to bite back a choked up not-sob entirely.

Pathetic. He sounds so pathetic. But this is so _terrifying_ and Yahaba’s voice manages to be so soft, so sweet, when it turns sharp as a blade as soon as he addresses the attacker again. “There’s nowhere you can run anymore. You’ve sealed your own fate.”

“Well spoken, my dear apprentice,” Oikawa replies from somewhere behind them, making Yahaba gasp. There is nothing left of his bubbly persona, Oikawa's voice is deep and sends a shiver down Kyoutani’s spine. Terrifying. Like this, Oikawa is nothing but terrifying. “Ah, emerald, is it? Such a vile power in the wrong hands.”

Iwaizumi turns towards them, eyes going wide. Kyoutani doesn’t want his mentor to see him like this, but there’s _nothing_ he can do.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi touches the other man’s biceps, like he’s looking for a little reassurance, too. “Can you take this one?”

“You go take care of your golden boy.” Oikawa’s voice is still the threat of a dagger about to bury itself in a heart. “I’ll teach this disgusting person some manners and what an _exceptionally_ bad idea it was to come to our territory and hurt the wrong people.”

Iwaizumi nods, turning his back towards the enemy with unwavering trust in Oikawa to keep him safe. Vile as their attacker is, the second it is presented to him, he moves to use his magic. Oikawa sends out one of his coils, and from the crack and resounding scream, Kyoutani is pretty sure Oikawa just snapped a wrist with deadly precision.

Now that Oikawa has the opponent occupied, Yahaba concentrates all his efforts on running his glowing palms over Kyoutani’s numb body, his heat bringing the feeling back slowly.

“Kentarou,” Iwaizumi gasps, kneeling down next to him, reaching for his hand. Kyoutani wants to sob when finally, he can feel it, even when it's still all off. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, I’m -”

“I tried to,” Yahaba says, head ducked. He’s still cradling Kyoutani in his arms, still massaging the feeling back into him. The red glow suits him, it does. His gem suits him. He's really, really warm. Kyoutani allows himelf to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath.

“I owe you,” Iwaizumi tells Yahaba, voice heavy.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kyoutani grits out. Okay, enough moping. Shitty things happen. He feels shaky and off but he won't get better from coddling now. “I'm fine.”

Iwaizumi ruffles his hair, chuckling. “Yeah you could go up and walk away right now, couldn't you?”

“Fuck you,” Kyoutani grunts.

“Don't worry,” Yahaba says, edge to his voice overtaken by a teasing lilt. “I'll be your knight and carry you.”

“Fuck _both_ of you,” Kyoutani groans.

 

\---

 

Oikawa only tells them the problem was “taken care of”. Kyoutani can't decide whether he straight up killed someone or is just trying to sound cool, and even Iwaizumi seems a little torn occasionally.

Yahaba lets go of him eventually, but hovers close, like he's terrified some weird ass side effect is gonna kick in any second. He goes quiet when Iwaizumi and Oikawa start arguing in hushed voice a couple of steps apart, and Kyoutani slowly munches through the bag of candy he always has handy for kids.

“Don't brood,” Kyoutani mutters around a mouthful of chocolate. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

Yahaba shakes his head, knots his fingers in his lap. “Just – if you'd -”

“If I'd what?”

Yahaba's eyes look strangely clouded, and it's worrisome as fuck. Even on top of all the bullshit that just went down.

“I wouldn't have worked with him,” Yahaba says, voice clipped. “I don't want to _hurt_ you. If you could've just – trusted me a little instead of -”

“What.” Kyoutani shakes his head, regretting it instantly, so he clumsily reaches out until he can tug on the hem of Yahaba's dumb cloak. “No, fuck, I just – I didn't know _how_ to, I knew you wouldn't – and then I was just glad he couldn't hurt _you._ ”

“Oh.” Yahaba blinks at him, down at where Kyoutani's fingers are still curled into his cloak, and back up at his face. He's really close, and really pretty, and his lips are half-parted because for once Kyoutani managed to leave him speechless.

For a second, Kyoutani thinks, it may just be the same for Yahaba. That whole “what the fuck” moment looking at him, some kind of pull, _something._ But then Oikawa calls for them, and they both snap out of it.

Yahaba gets up and brushes himself off, and their goodbye feel a little empty because all the important words are already out in the open, and Kyoutani just watches his retreating back. Iwaizumi helps him up and steadies him on their way to Takeda and Ukai, because he's ignoring all of Kyoutani's protests and wants to have him checked out. 

Kyoutani doesn't catch half the things he's saying, but he lets Iwaizumi's warm voice soothe him as his mind keeps reeling.

 

\---

 

The nightmares stay, but they become less frequent.

Kyoutani studies up on self-defense against magic until he stops feeling terrified of going to sleep and heading out for the job. Until he feels safe again in his gold skirt and gloves and fancy shoes and thigh highs (that's the word, Yahaba insists, not just socks) which allow him to beat up shadows threatening peaceful lives and do something pretty damn worthwhile.

Things go back to normal.

Saving kids, who can see him, and adults, who are just really confused and relieved that their bad thoughts left them alone, finally. Purifying the shadows he gets. Battling against a Yahaba who doesn’t use his magic, only his idiotic whip.

The fear slowly subsides.

Something else lingers.

Kyoutani can't stop thinking about the way Yahaba looked with Kyoutani's fingers curled into his coat. Which is ridiculout, but he can't help it. 

Here's the problem: in the two months since that day, Yahaba has not touched Kyoutani once.

But in those two months Kyoutani also had not stopped thinking about touching Yahaba once. Not in a weird way, just – to feel his warmth again.

Which makes it worse, honestly. Fucking hell.

 

\---

 

“Solve this or I’m kicking you out of the house,” Iwaizumi threatens, eventually, and Kyoutani is only 10% sure that he’s joking.

 

\---

 

“Fuck.” He’s been way too fucking distracted today. Can’t believe he made a fucking _rookie mistake_ like that. Of course, Yahaba isn’t far off. He’s on the narrow windowsill, laughing with his head thrown back.

“Fuck you,” Kyoutani growls, lifting himself out of the brick shards he left on the fucking roof. Well, they can get Takeda on that again. Shit.

“It’s just like back then,” Yahaba wheezes. “It’s been like, what, a year?!”

“You still need to make snide remarks about my outfit for the true nostalgia,” Kyoutani mutters, shaking the rubble out of his several layers of ruffled skirt.

Yahaba blinks at him for a moment. “Huh? Oh, that.” Then, he shrugs. “I meant it. I just didn’t want you to know, so I made it sound like an insult.”

“You what.”

“I like your skirt,” Yahaba says. “The lace in particular.”

He gets up to his feet, jumping from one house to the next, landing next to Kyoutani on light feet, grinning at him. His eyes are alight, like he's expecting something, and it makes Kyoutani's heart stutter in his chest.

“Your cloak is the most horrible thing I’ve ever set eyes on,” Kyoutani mumbles, tips of his ears burning in anticipation of what he’s gonna have to say. “But I like -” He cuts off. Shit. He can’t do this.

Holy fucking shit. Abort that particular mission.

“You like what?” Yahaba asks, with a playful smile, tugging at the puffy edge of Kyoutani’s glove around his wrist. “My pretty face? My dazzling personality? My powerful gem?”

“You,” Kyoutani mutters, not meeting his gaze, and it startles Yahaba into silence. Quite the achievement in itself.

Kyoutani could get used to that.

Yahaba doesn’t reply. Not with words, anyways. Instead, his fingers curl at the nape of Kyoutani’s neck and he leans in, touching their lips together like a question, a little too shy for the liking of a guy who had been waiting for this to happen for _weeks_.

Kyoutani presses back insistently, finally shattering Yahaba’s attempts of holding back - as usual. Yahaba exhales sharply, cradles Kyoutani’s face in his hands, and they ignore shadows and magic and their mentors chasing each other across rooftops, kissing under a ridiculously blue sky, the brick shards of a ruined roof crunching under their feet, until their lips are as pink as their cheeks.

Yahaba calls Kyoutani's grin dorky when they part, and Kyoutani doesn't have an ounce of rational thought left in his brain to insult him back, so he just buries his face at Yahaba's neck, listening to the little hiccups of laughter Yahaba can't help.

He sounds so happy, as happy as Kyoutani feels.

 

\---

 

“It’s so … weird to see you wearing actual pants.”

Kyoutani elbows Yahaba in the side. “Fucking get over it, and _don’t_ start on the ribbons again or I’m leaving.” _With_ the popcorn.

Yahaba only shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s lightly bouncing on his feet, which obviously is a dead giveaway for how excited he actually is. To be honest, Kyoutani feels the same - this being their first date and all, just an idiotic movie far from magic and duty and sort of being enemies.

Yahaba looks pretty damn gorgeous in skinny jeans and a striped blue hoodie, though even wearing a tattered dress made from dishcloth would have looked better than the cloak. Kyoutani wisely does not tell him though. As opposed to his boyfriend, he knows when to shut the fuck up.

Yahaba snatches a handful of popcorn. “It’s still weird,” he declares. “But a good weird.”

“Yeah,” Kyoutani says easily, and links his fingers with Yahaba’s slightly buttery ones. He feels an idiotic grin tugging at his lips.

The best kind of weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Iwa-chan could, in theory, have flat shoes if he so desired. But at first he really enjoyed having a couple extra centimetres against Oikawa. Who then started wearing boots with heels. They've been escalating slowly but surely ever since and neither can back down anymore. 
> 
> Also fun fact: in a different city somewhere there's a kagehinayachi magical girl trio and it's awesome. 
> 
> Last fun fact: I wrote and edited most of this mess during the past 24 hours and if I ever consider writing until 8 a.m. again please fight me, in heels or not, it's your choice. Clothing has no gender!


End file.
